Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow Never Knows
by Boogaloo1964
Summary: The Doctor (plus Ponds) pays a visit to the Beatles to warn them of danger in their future. To avoid crossing his own timeline and causing a major paradox, the Doctor cannot be there to rescue his Beatle friends from their potential demise. Can the Beatles save the day, and live to rock another day? (occurs after "TARDIS For Sale") {Not actually AtU}
1. Chapter 1

_*Hello again everyone :) I've got another story. Hope you like it. It goes right along with "A Hard Day's Night in Time and Space" and "TARDIS For Sale". It's going to be much shorter than the other two, but it's still fun. It's kind of like a mini-episode in between TARDIS For Sale and what's going to be my next longer one. I'm currently working on that one, but it will be a bit before I'm ready to put it on._

 _I had a thought that I might as well give this Doctor Who/Beatles series of stories a name seeing how they all tie together and everything. I decided on "In The Sky With Diamonds; A Space-Time Saga". Bit over-dramatic? Haha I don't know. Let me know what you think in the reviews._

 _So here this one is and I hope you like it :)_

Paul was skiing along quite happily, a cold wind blowing in his face, drying his skin even through all the layers of makeup that he had been forced to wear. Ringo was beside him, bobbing side to side. Paul looked at him nervously. He was making rather wide swerves. They had already had two crashes this morning (the first involving John's loose ski and resulting in George's near asphyxiation {John and George had been trying to ski alongside each other while wearing the same extra-long red-and-white striped scarf, but John fell due to a faulty ski, tightening the noose on poor Geo}, the second involving Ringo trying to light a ciggie whilst skiing. That one would have gone fine if Paul hadn't tripped on rock that was masked by snow and fell on him, ending him up with a flaming mitten and a face full of snow), and Paul wasn't eager for a third.

When he was first told that the filming of their newest film was going to take them to the Alps, he was excited. It didn't feel a whole lot like filming, really. He had to do very little acting, he just had to ski around, and make the occasional funny face to the camera. Yesterday the film crew had hauled a grand piano out onto the slope for the boys to muck about with, and Ringo got to watch a double of himself ride around upside down from the ski lift (he wanted to do it himself, but Brian put his foot down). It was all good fun.

The boys were a long way from the bottom of the slope when Paul heard a strange sound; a gasping, straining sound. At first he dismissed it as the wind, or as one of the other boys making strange noises (which they often did to amuse themselves). He was looking down, watching the snow rush past his feet, and when he looked up, he saw a great blue thing in front of him. He tried to stop the way the stunt man had taught him, but he couldn't. At the last second, he swerved around it and skidded to a stop, followed by the rest of the lads.

"You didn't say it would be COLD, Doctor,", came a female voice.

"It is?".

"Come see for yourself,", she said, just turning to see a group of young men staring at her.

"Oh. Hello,", she said.

They blinked at her.

"Are you... You're not... This isn't...?", stammered George, waddling ungracefully in his skis up to the TARDIS.

"Sorry, uh,", she said.

"Donna! You've grown!", blurted John, almost having to look up at the redheaded woman (he wasn't wearing his glasses).

"Ummm... No, I'm not, I'm not Donna,", she managed, wondering who these kooks were.

She had penetrating green eyes and hair that couldn't get much redder. She looked fairly cold, standing there in a light blouse and a miniskirt.

"Good God, you're Scottish!", said Ringo, the words spilling out of his mouth upon hearing her accent.

Amy's eyes widened a little.

"Doctor, Rory,", she called back into the TARDIS. "Dudes out here, _I think they're insane or something please help NOW_ ,", she said, shout-whispering the last part.

"Sorry, Amy, I was just grabbing the jumpers, since you said it was cold, darling,", said a man, just stepping out the door. He was fairly skinny, had light brown hair, and a definite nose.

He looked up after a moment and noticed the group gathered before their time machine.

"Oh,", he said. His expression was blank. His eyes scanned between the four of them.

"Oh,", he repeated. He looked as though he might be about to implode.

"Am, ama, A-a-a-a,", he said, smiling wider than looked possible for his face size.

"What, Rory?", she said, turning back to him, confused as to what was wrong with him all of a sudden.

"Muh!", he shouted, then covered his mouth quickly with his hand. He then found himself unable to make any noises other than a high-pitched wheeze-squeal.

"Is crazy contagious, or what?", said Amy, getting impatient with her husband.

"It's, it's, it's,", he started, unable to make it past that first conjunction.

"It's what, Rory?", she asked.

"IT'S THE BEATLES OH MY GOD AMY OH SWEET JESUS-", he said, the passage from his brain to his mouth just reopening for business.

"What?", asked Amy, wondering if Rory was seeing the same thing that she was.

"HOLY GOD, AMY IT'S THE BEATLES OH LORD I'M GONNA DIE-", he shouted, unaware that her ear was in the line of fire.

"Oh, it can't be,", scoffed Amy, trying peer at them under their winter gear.

"It is, you know,", said Ringo.

Amy's smirk was wiped right off her face. Now it was her turn to stand there, stunned.

Rory went right up to John and started shaking his hand vigorously.

"I've got ever record you ever made, I was you for Halloween for six straight years, I learned guitar because of you, I wrote a paper on you for my Year Ten writing subject, I've had your picture on my wall since I was eleven, and may I say, "Imagine" changed my life,", said Rory, beaming, nearly shaking John's arm out of socket.

"I'm tryin' to Imagine what you're talking about, son,", said John, mostly to himself, because Rory couldn't hear over his own hyperventilating.

"Oh, of course! You haven't done that yet! Sorry. I'm Pond Williams. I mean, William Ponds. I mean, Rory Pond. I mean Rory Amy. I mean,", Rory could have gone on. John raised his eyebrows.

Amy's shock wore off at about that time.

"Oh my God, you're Paul McCartney!", she screamed, and ran up to him and hugged him.

"What are we, chopped liver?", Ringo mumbled to George.

Just then, another man emerged from the TARDIS. He had a brown quiff and was wearing a checked suit and red bowtie. He was tall and thin, and he had an angular face. He was a stranger to the Beatles, until they looked into his eyes, and then they knew who it was.

"Hello, boys. I'm back.".

"Doctor?", asked Ringo, trying to get a confirmation.

"Yeah. Ya dig the new body?", he said, straightening his bowtie.

"Yeah, but can you get your money back on the eyebrows?", asked John.

"'Ey, Lennon, why don't you just give me some of yours. You've got enough for three people. I'll just donate mine to an Ood,", the Doctor laughed jovially.

"An Ood has eyebrows?", Amy asked, stopping strangling Paul for a second.

"Exactly,", said the Doctor, pointing at Amy.

"Hey,", said Rory, turning to Amy. "Husband?", he said, motioning to himself and questioning Amy.

"Oh. Sorry. Love you,", she said, releasing Paul and tapping Rory's shoulder. "He gets jealous,", she whispered to Paul and laughed playfully.

"Heard that,", said Rory, laughing, though still looking at his idols in total wonder.

"How long have you two been married?", asked John knowingly.

"Two weeks.".

"Ah. Wait 'til you've been married as long as I have, you'll be singin' a different tune,", said Ringo.

"How long've you been married?", asked Amy.

"Three weeks.".

Amy laughed, and Ringo smiled with satisfaction at the success of his quip. Rory didn't laugh. He was still floating on Beatle Cloud 9, barely hearing what anyone was saying.

"Hey though, fellows, I just stopped off on my way to Rio, we've had so many pit-stops already, I think these two would've gotten there faster on foot,", the Doctor's speech wandered. "But did you get my note?".

"What note?", they all echoed.

"Oh, good grief,", he muttered to himself. "I told you not to leave it with the producer, Amy, I told you,", he scolded his companion lightly.

"Well! You said not to get seen! I just stopped some teenage girl with a Beatle cut and told her to leave the note. It was unsigned, anyway, how could they know who it was from?".

"They should have known, no one says that but us,", muttered the Doctor.

"Says what?".

"Lythm-rogs!", the Doctor exclaimed in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Doctor,", said Paul, a concerned look on his face. "You left that note months ago. When you left last time.".

"Oh, no I didn't, I just left it yesterday! You never responded, so I had to come and check up on you and make sure you got the message!".

"That note had me looking round all the corners and checking my closet for CIA midgets for a week, and nothing happened! I thought we decided 'lythm-rogs' meant danger?", said George.

"It does, it does! The bus is going to blow up because of the egg in the walrus sequence!", said the Doctor. The Beatles were sure that he was making perfect sense to himself and the Ponds.

"I mean,", he said, looking into the blank faces of his sometimes-companions.

"From the beginning, Doctor,", said Ringo.

"Right,", said the Doctor, shivering before accepting the scarf that Rory was extended to him. "Right,", he repeated, wrapping it round his neck. "In a couple years, you're going to make another film,", he started.

"Another one? Do I have to wear a bloody gigantic and uncomfortable ring in this one?", Ringo said, motioning to a bulge under his glove.

"Uh, no. You just have to wear white suits and dance.".

"Oh, no! I'm not dancing! Nuh-uh!", protested John emphatically.

"Hey, let's keep an open mind, Lennon, an open mind,", chided the Doctor in the way only he could.

"Anyhow, on the third day of shooting, during the lunch break, there's going to be a Dalek trying to blow you up. He'll be dressed as an egg, don't worry.".

"Dressed as a what?", asked Paul.

"An egg. He blends in perfectly.".

"A deviled egg!", said John in a very posh accent, acting as if he were swearing. Everyone snorted.

"Why does a Dalek want to blow us up?", asked Ringo. "What did we ever do to any of them?".

"Well...", said Paul. "I might've caused them to blow themselves up once, remember Ring?".

"Oh, yeah. You told me about that.".

"Oh, it's just the usual Dalek stratagem - kill everybody, ruin the humans, victory for the Daleks, blah blah blah, you know the type,", said the Doctor casually. "But anyway. Don't talk to any of the eggs, just remember that.".

"What the hell is this film going to be about, anyway?", laughed George.

"You tell me, mate, you tell me,", the Doctor trailed off, shaking his head and buzzing his lips to himself.

"But anyhow. He is going to deposit an explosive under the front driver's side fender of the bus, and you've got to stop him. You've got to get the bomb to me, because bomb disposal technology in your time can't handle it. It's got a timer that's going to go off at exactly 2:23pm, so get the job done well before then. All you've got to do split it open by inserting a 3/8ths flat-blade screwdriver into the crevice on the side, then you've got to cut the smaller blue wire. It's about the weight of a light-gauge 4th string on a guitar. If you cut the bigger one, it'll all be over, but... Oh, never mind, you'll be fine. I'll be there to pick it up by the end of the day.".

"All right then,", said John, nodding to himself. "And where will you be if we blow everyone up?".

"John, we won't blow everyone up,", said Paul, always the voice of optimism versus John's voice of pessimism.

"Don't be so sure, son.".

"Not there, that's where I'll be,", replied the Doctor.

"Why not?".

"Never mind that,", dismissed the Doctor with a sweep of his hand. "Oh! And if you see a man dressed in a striped suit and wearing a sprig of asparagus on his lapel, under no circumstances should you speak to him.".

"'S he you, too?", asked George.

"How'd you guess?".

"Well, you wouldn't let us have any fun that you could have yourself unless you couldn't be there. You can't cross your own timeline without causing a major paradox.".

"Righto, George,", said the Doctor with a smile. He had trained some clever companions.

"So what will your former self be saving the world from at the same time?".

"Oh, nothing to concern you, just some, um, Zygons. And Paul, do you still have an allergy to parsley?".

"Um, yeah, why?".

"Good. That'll help me flush out the Zygon. Don't want an Elizabeth the First situation again. But you just forget that, don't think of parsley ever again,", rambled the Doctor.

"But anyway, we must be off, have a good film, have a good album, have a good tour, have a good wedding, George,", said the Doctor waving to them. "But, oh, uh- forget that, George, forget that, I uh, don't know what I was saying,", the Doctor tried to cover up. "Anyhow, remember; asparagus - a no-no, Paul, forget parsley, but most importantly, 3/8ths flat-blade non-sonic screwdriver, cut the little blue wire, cut it clean in two! And oh, don't egg on any eggs!", the Doctor laughed to himself at his last pun.

Amy started back into the TARDIS at the Doctor's bidding, and she had to pull Rory along as he was still gaping at his idols.

"And oh, John,", said Rory, hanging back out the door.

"Yeah?".

"Your guitar string is going to break and snap you in the eye in Salt Lake City this summer. Just a note to self, might want to change your set before you go on,", advised Rory.

"Hey, yeah man, thanks,", said John. Rory wasn't that bad after all.

"Come on,", laughed Amy, dragging him inside.

"All right, Ponds,", the Doctor started to say to him full-time companions just as he closed the door behind himself as he returned to the TARDIS without properly saying goodbye to the boys.

"Well,", said Ringo. "That's what I call a newsflash.".

"All right, lads,", said John, assuming the lead. He turned around and started to skii down the slope.

"Wait!", said Ringo.

"What is it, mate?".

"Aren't you going to watch?", he asked, just as the vortex wind started to blow in their faces, tousling their hair and blowing George's stovepipe hat clean off.

They watched with wonder as the box dematerialized, making its vworping noise, the lamp on top flashing in time with the noise. They stood there until the box couldn't be seen and the noises could no longer be heard, and all that was left of the magic was a little dust-devil of snow blowing round where the box had been.

"Well,", said Ringo, turning. "I guess that's over for another two years.".

"Good. Gives me time to think how in the hell we're ever going to write a good song about walruses and eggs,", said John thoughtfully, turning in his skis. "Come on, lads,", he said, motioning them to follow.

Thoughts of the blue box and the mysteries of the future still left unsolved filled their minds as they coasted down the hill.

 _*All right, see you people in '67! Haha_

 _Review, please! I'd love to know what you all are thinking of this one :)_

 _Peace and love and see you next time :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N; I just realized I forgot to put a disclaimer on the first chapter, so here you go._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of the characters or creatures from Doctor Who. I also do not own the Beatles, and the representations of them in this story are fictionalized and based to some extent on the dramatized versions of them in their films._

 _Ha. That's out of the way. Here you go; Chapter Two._

Ringo was tired feeling a bit tired, a bit hungry, and a bit sick of wearing this hot costume (consisting of fluorescent orange pants that were a bit tight {which were the least of his discomfort}, a large, undefined furry mass wrapped around his torso, a chicken head over his head {not a real chicken head. That might have smelled better}, and John's glasses perched on his beak {he had complained that he couldn't see anything with the mask on, so John had jokingly shoved his glasses on Ringo, and Ringo, wrapped so heavily in quite novel garb, was unable to raise his arms high enough to remove them}).

Aside from all this, Ringo was having a bit of fun. He was out on a grassy plain on a nice day, drumming to his heart's content. He wasn't the only one in an uncomfortable costume. George was wearing a rabbit's head (which he had informed the others had little to no air circulation factor), John was dressed as a walrus, and Paul as a hippo. He had forgotten whose idea the whole thing had been, but he thought the whole thing seemed like a decidedly John thing to be doing.

The line of dancing eggs had been marching around them all morning as they played John's new song over and over, trying to get enough shots to put together for the film. Ringo had been peering at them all suspiciously. He had yet to see any of them that looked like mechanical hate machines, but he wasn't about to let his guard down.

Today was the third day of filming, and the lads all knew what they had to do. George had been reading in his old electrical manuals, trying to remember what he had once learned about wiring, thinking it might come in handy disarming the bomb. The others had reminded him, "It's not a lightswitch, Geo, it's a bleedin' bomb!", but he had persisted. John had been trying to memorize exactly what the fourth string on his guitar felt like so he would know which one they should cut. Paul had been trying to get them all to relax, and Ringo had been relaxing. It was no big deal, they just had to save the whole cast and crew of the film from an intergalactic threat.

Ringo was lost in thought when someone tapped his shoulder. He jumped nearly a full foot in the air and whirled around, ready to fend off a Dalek with his drumsticks. When he turned and was finally able to get a good view of his tapper through the poor eyeholes of his costume, he saw that it was a hippo.

"Relax, Rings,", said Paul lazily.

"God, Paul, you nearly scared me half to death,", said Ringo, rising from his drums.

"It's time to go to lunch now,", said Paul, though it was clear by his tone of voice that 'go to lunch' meant something besides eat a sandwich.

"Ah. Right,", said Ringo, tripping over himself, following Paul away from the set.

Once they were all gathered in their trailer for 'lunch', the removed their masks.

"Ha, good,", sighed Ringo as he cast his mask to the side, very glad that the he no longer had a beak and comb.

"All right, fellows, Parliament is in session,", said John, placing his partial egg-head hat over his head and his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Hey, why don't we reduce the taxes, then?", proposed George, flopping down on the sofa.

"'Ey, good idea,", said John, writing with an imaginary pen on an imaginary paper.

"All right, fellas, let's get serious,", said Paul. "Who's gonna go get the bomb?".

"Are you totally potty, Macca? We can't bring it in here! What if it goes off or something?", said John.

"It's not going to go off until 2:23, remember?", reminded Ringo. "Plus, we can't be seen handling it out in the open. People'll start to ask questions.".

"Right,", said George. "'Ave we got all the stuff? The screwdriver, the cutters?".

"Yes and yes,", said Paul producing both items from his pockets.

"All right, fellows, are we ready?", said Paul, starting back towards the door.

They all gulped. They got up soberly, and started to follow Paul.

"All right, lads,", said John. "For England, Harry, and St. George!".

"'Ey, and for Peace, love, and Rock 'n roll!", added Ringo.

"What about for space, time, and the universe?", chimed George.

"How about for Doctor, TARDIS, and, and - A-CHOO!", Paul sneezed.

"Ah, God,", cursed George, who had been the recipient of the sneeze.

"Sorry, George, I just, I j-j - ACHOO! - ACHOO! - ACHOO! Ack...", Paul sneezed violently, reaching for a nearby handkerchief.

"Sorry fellows, don't know what came over me,", he sighed, blowing his nose.

"'S all right, mate,", said George.

"Catching a cold, are we?", asked Ringo.

"Glss rn-n,", sniffled Paul incoherently into his handkerchief.

"I've got it!", exclaimed John, his ridiculous hat falling off.

"Got what?".

"That's it! Those are the words!", he rushed back over to his dressing table, grabbing for his notes he had lying around, involuntarily spraying papers all over the floor in his haste.

"The words to what?".

" _Looking through the bent-backed tulips, To see how the other half live, Looking through a Glass Onion!_ ", he sang the last two words triumphantly.

"That song again, John?", said Paul, sighing a little.

"I've had the tune stuck in me 'ead for a week now.".

"But John. The words. What do they mean?".

"Nothing. I've got loads more,", he said, flipping through his loose papers.

"See? Ehem... _I told you 'bout the fool on the hill. I tell ya, man, he's livin' there still. And I've got I told ya 'bout strawberry fields, you know the place where nothing is real_ ,", he sang.

Paul was now intrigued.

"I like it. But John - why onion?".

"Well, Macca, why walrus?", retorted John, raising his eyebrows at his friend.

"Touche.".

"Guys!", exclaimed Ringo.

Three shaggy heads turned and looked back at him.

"Bomb?".

"Oh.".

As soon as they were sure no one was looking, the lads (after changing out of their very conspicuous costumes, that is) could be seen trodding carefully across the grass to where the psychedelically-painted bus has been parked. They kept looking over their shoulders to see if they were being pursued by any hostile-looking eggs, which they weren't.

As they were trying to make it across the set while attracting the least amount of attention as possible, they skirted around the backs of all the tents that had been set up (for costuming and production reasons). Just as they were turning the corner around such a tent, Ringo (who was in the lead), bumped smack into a man.

"Do watch where you're going, my dear lad,", said the man.

"Yeah, you do the same, dad", Ringo shot back in his instinctive Liverpool way, and then as he pushed past the man, he realized what his suit was made of. Red and white pinstripes. He looked up a little. Asparagus.

"Oh no-", said Ringo out loud by accident. He stood in silence for a moment, at a dead stand-still.

"Ringo, what-", Paul started to say, then he saw the suit too.

Then they all started running.

The man was jostled a little as George and John broke into a lope, pushing past him quite forcefully. He just pursed his lips and shook his head, looking after them.

"Boy, that was close,", said Ringo, heaving for breath as they arrived next to the bus.

"Y- ACHOO!", sneezed Paul for about the millionth time.

"Got a touch of fever there, Paul?", asked John.

"ACK-HOO!", he sneezed again. His eyes were watering now, and he entered into a coughing fit.

Paul was incapacitated, sneezing and coughing his head off. The others were ignoring him, looking for the suspicious object.

They were about to start wondering if there was a bomb at all when Ringo's hand finally stumbled upon a round, metal object.

He instantly broke out into a cold sweat.

"Here it is,", he said, frozen. The other two able-bodied Beatles rushed over to him.

"Can you get it out, Rings?".

"I - I think so,", he said, grasping it gently but with force. He tried pulling down on it, and it fell into his hand easily.

He brought it out into the light with caution and slightly shaky hands.

"Damn,", breathed John.

It looked like one of the round-things in Dalekanium. It was a bronze color, and it was almost like a perfect sphere, except the bottom was flat.

"O-okay,", said Ringo, carefully rising to his feet.

"George, you got the screwdriver?".

George felt all his pockets.

"John, you must've picked it up,", George dismissed.

"I didn't.".

"You must've done.".

"I didn't, though.".

"Don't be a Charlie, Lennon,", said George, still double and triple checking his own pockets.

"I'm not joking, George. I don't have it. I really don't.".

Both looked at eachother with suddenly terrified eyes. Ringo then contemplated what it would feel like to be holding a bomb when it went off.

"Paul?", they both said, turning to Paul, who was still feeling quite sick.

Paul sniffled and searched his own pockets. They thought he started to say he didn't have it before he let out a bloody great sneeze. He looked miserable, but he was the least of their worries at the moment.

"Cor, lads!", said John, taking out at a run across the grass back to the trailer.

"WAIT!", said Ringo before they could all run off and leave him. "We can't run with a bomb!".

"It's not a pair of scissors, Ringo,", chided John.

"Well!", said Ringo indignantly, his blue eyes looking rather pouty. "What if it excites the particles, or, or something! They're deadly particles, they are!".

"Yeah, it's a vicious thingie!", agreed George.

"Well, whad'you propose we do?", said John, giving up.

"We walk quickly,", said Ringo, starting out. The others followed him.

They looked a bit comical from a distance. They looked as though they were in a tremendous hurry, but they couldn't run, only walk in hastened, uneven paces.

As they were trying to get back to the trailer, they passed another man, whom Paul thought was very well dressed.

"'Ey, cool jacket, man,", said Paul before hacking a couple of times.

"Ta, mate,", the man replied.

Something about the man's voice struck Paul. And something about the jacket, too.

"Hey, that's my jacket!", said Paul. Then he realized. "That's the jacket I'M WEARING!", exclaimed Paul, turning back to the other man. The man turned back around, and then Paul went totally white.

"Oh, it's you, then,", said the other man.

Paul tried to form words, but couldn't. This seemed to amuse the man.

"Tell me, mate, how d'you keep this accent up all the time? It's exhausting.".

Just then the others realized that Paul wasn't following and they turned back around to see what Paul was seeing, and then they too were gobsmacked.

"But - He looks just like you!", Ringo finally managed to blurt out.

The real Paul fainted.

"Oh, dear. We've gone and fainted, haven't we? Hate it when they do that. Ends then fun. Don't get to see what it looks like from the outside when their little brains are trying to figure it all out,", laughed the Paul doppelganger with sinister glee.

"Who are you?", demanded John, hostility boiling up in his voice. The other Paul just laughed.

"That's a good question, Lennon. Because I know all about you. I remember when it took you a full hour to find a rhyme for "purple", and I know that you wet your bed until you were 14. And you,", he said, turning to George. "I know everything about you, too. I was there when you got married, when you bought your first car. I know about the rabbit's foot you keep in your guitar case,", he continued. "And Ringo, I remember how hard it was for you to confess when you stole that pack of ciggies in Hamburg, and I remember when you were still sleeping with your teddy bear at 22.".

"Are we just gonna stand here and let him fire off all this crap?", said Ringo, the teddy bear comment setting him off.

Suddenly, the man in the pinstriped suit jumped out of nowhere. He attacked the other Paul with shrubbery, rubbing it in his face. The other Paul was screaming and trying to fight him off, but couldn't.

"Run, lads! RUN!", shouted the Doctor.

"But... What's that?", George couldn't help but ask.

"PARSLEY!", replied the Doctor.

Just then, the real Paul woke himself up with a huge sneeze.

"Come on, Paul!", said George and John, pulling Paul up off the grass and dragging him away from the scene of herbal assault.

Paul sneezed all the way back to the trailer. Ringo was running by then, not caring remotely about exciting particles.

They all piled in the trailer and slammed the door behind themselves. Paul fell over on the couch in a pile of sneezes and coughs. His face was red, and he was wheezing loudly.

"Damn, damn, damn, damn,", Ringo cursed, setting the bomb down on the dressing table hastily.

Almost as soon as he set it down, it started vibrating across the table and making ticking noises.

"AHH!", they all screamed.

John attacked it with the screwdriver to no avail.

"John, what are you doing?!", George screamed. "Open it, open it!", he prodded.

John found the crevice in the side that the Doctor had been talking about. He started prying at it with his screwdriver, but then he made a terrible discovery.

"Paul, curse ya for livin'!", John screamed uncharacteristically.

"Why?!", replied Ringo and George for Paul who was unable to talk.

"This is a Phillips blade!", wailed John, dropping the screwdriver and starting to try to pry the bomb open with his teeth.

"It's 2:19!", exclaimed Ringo, looking at the clock with fear in his eyes.

"Oh, no,", said George. He stood stone still for a moment before rushing out of the trailer.

"Where are you going?!", Ringo shouted after him.

"To get a screwdriver from the crew!".

He slammed the door behind himself, leaving his bandmates alone with a ticking time bomb.

John got up and started pacing around the room at an atomic rate, looking for anything that could pry the sphere open.

"HA!", said John, seizing a guitar pick of the dressing table. He inserted it in the crevice and started prying. He almost thought it was coming when the pick snapped.

"Damn,", John cursed.

"Wait, John,", said Ringo, over near where Paul was.

"I 'aven't got time to wait, Ring, we've got three minutes!", John exclaimed, looking at the clock. It was 2:20. "And don't tell Geo I broke his lucky pick,", said John, just then realizing which pick he had in fact used.

"Wait, John!", Ringo repeated more emphatically.

"What?".

"Paul's trying to tell us something!".

Paul's face was a bit swollen by then, and he couldn't form intelligible words.

"What is it, Paul?", John asked.

Paul struggled to talk for a moment before realizing that neither of them could understand a word he was trying to gasp out. He then starting pointing wildly at a carton of cigarettes on the table.

"Paul, you don't need a smoke! Look at ya!", cried John.

Ringo picked up the carton and looked inside. There was the flat-blade screwdriver. It was a rather short one, albeit, but it was there. He produced it and showed it to John.

"Give the man a pat on the back!", rejoiced John, grabbing the screwdriver from Ringo and applying it to the bronze-colored death trap. Ringo patted Paul on the back, only to accidentally restart his coughing fit.

John was prying on the thing for a few seconds before it finally snapped open. It opened rather like a clam-shell, revealing not a pearl, but a mess of wires and electronic boards with blinking lights.

Just at that moment, George rushed back in, totally breathless and disheveled. He was holding another screwdriver triumphantly up in the air until John raised up the tiny one that he was holding a little. George totally deflated.

"Right, lads. Which wire?", said John, looking over the intertwined, tangled mess.

The thing was full of wires, tangled and intertwined.

They started sorting through the whole thing, examining each wire, until Paul exclaimed, "It's 2:21!".

Then they sped up their searching a bit.

"Here it is!", Ringo and John said at the same time, both holding up different blue wires. Their expressions soured instantly.

"I've got this sorted,", said John, turning away and starting to rummage in the pile of instrument cases in the corner.

"John, we've got 90 seconds!", shouted Ringo, looking at the clock.

John got out his guitar and started running his finger up and down neck.

"JOHN!", they all shouted.

"Hold it, hold it, just relax, fellas,", he said, finally turning away and coming back.

He then took one blue wire and pressed it up against his left ring finger.

"What are you doing?", asked Ringo.

"Testing the size, Rings. Remember what the Doctor said the size of the wire was like? Like a fourth string,", he said, showing them all the indention the fourth string had made in the callus on the pad of his finger. "Always thinking,", he said, tapping the side of his nose.

He matched the first wire, and it was much too large to match the size. The second, however, fit perfectly into the indention.

"Ah ha. Cutters, Harrison,", said John, motioning for him to hand him the wire-cutters.

George handed them over, and John snipped the wire.

The bomb stopped ticking.

They all exhaled.

"Well, that's over,", said George.

*Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang!*

They all jumped.

Someone was knocking at the door.

"Gentlemen, on set, please!", came a voice.

They all got up and started out the door.

"I didn't even get to eat me lunch,", moped Ringo, hanging back, looking forlornly at his brown paper bag containing a sandwich and apple.

"Come on, Rings,", said John playfully, pulling him on out the door.

 _*A/N; Thanks ever so much for reading. Hope you liked it :) Peace and love_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N; Here's the conclusion to this rather short adventure. Hope you've all enjoyed :)_

The lads had just finished shooting for the day, and they were tired out and ready to get out from in front of the cameras. The sun was setting, falling into the distance over the side of the hill, and the crew was wheeling John's white piano into the back of a lorry. Ringo was packing up his drums, and George, Paul and John were packing guitars in cases to a waiting van.

Just then, one of the costume girls came up to Paul, cupping something in both hands.

"Do you want this packed along with your things, Mr. McCartney?", she asked just as Paul turned to face her.

Paul tried not to let his alarm show on his face. She was holding the disarmed bomb.

John stopped as he passed them with another case headed for the van, almost causing a pile-up with Ringo and one of his tom-toms.

"Uh, uh, no, you'd better give that to me,", said Paul, leaning his bass against his body and starting to accept the bomb in both hands, but then something astonishing happened.

The bomb closed up and sprouted mechanical legs. It hopped to the ground and started waddling away like a spider the size of your face.

Everyone screamed, especially the costume girl, who ran as she screamed.

They all started running after it, trying to step on it. They got a couple of good hits in, but it didn't seem to deter the mechanical spider. It only seemed to make it angry.

"Hey!", said Paul, having a bright idea. He ran back to the trailer, leaving all of them to keep the creature at bay.

Paul soon emerged, hefting a very large amplifier. He ran up to the group with it and dropped it on the mechanical creature, immobilizing it.

Just then, a figure came running from behind the lorry holding John's piano. She was wearing a dress with big, bright-colored flowers and she had a Quant-like haircut.

"HELLLOOOO, UNCLES!", came her voice.

"Oh, no, not now!", said Paul, and he and George quickly sat down on the amplifier. They had all forgotten that they had invited Maggie Pettijohn (their jointly-adopted niece) out to set after her school let out on holiday. They always enjoyed seeing her, but this was rather a bad time!

Just as she was getting closer, George and Paul felt the mechanical spider moving under the amplifier.

"Oh, no,", they both said, looking at eachother.

"John!", said George, grabbing him by the coat sleeve and pulling him down to help anchor down the amp.

"RINGO!", she said gleefully, crashing into Ringo with a huge hug.

"Hi, Maggie,", said Ringo, smiling and patting her back. "Failing any tests?", he asked jokingly.

"All of them,", she said, then she winked at the others over Ringo's shoulder.

"I did what you told me to do, John,", she said, finally releasing Ringo.

"What was that?", asked Paul.

"He told me to sock any girls that made fun of my accent.". She had a Texas accent that she couldn't shake, and the girl in college with her in London weren't very accepting of it.

"Good Lord!", exclaimed Paul in a fake posh accent. "He didn't tell you that, did he? Naughty uncle.".

John shoved him and lit up a cigarette.

"Really, you shouldn't punch people, Maggie,", said John. "You should just hit them really hard in the face.".

"Jesus, John,", said George. "Kids like her shouldn't go round punching people.".

"What? We did it at that age...".

"We weren't girls, John,", reminded George.

"Ah. Good point,", said John.

Silence. John took a drag from his ciggie.

"Well?", she said finally, dropping her purse and coat on the grass, extending her arms to the sides.

"What?", they all looked at her.

"Aren't you going to greet me?", she said, looking at the remaining three who hadn't gotten up.

"Ah,", said Paul. "Ring...?", he said, motioning for him to sit on the amp. Paul cautiously got up, but tried to make it look perfectly natural (though it didn't help that as soon as he got up, Ringo shot over to sit in his place and George and John were jostled a little by apparent movement of the amplifier).

Paul came up and hugged Maggie, patting her back.

"Paul,", she said, looking inquisitively at the other three.

"Yes?".

"Is anything wrong?".

"W-Wrong? Oh, no, no, why would you ask that? Do you know why she would ask that, lads? Wrong? Poof,", he said, his face turning red behind Maggie's back. Paul was and always had been a terrible liar.

"What's under the amplifier?", she asked flatly.

George and Ringo gave charmingly unconvincing smiles and John looked off into the distance, puffing his cigarette.

She shrugged off Paul.

"All right, Lennon. What's the gag?", she said approaching him.

"What? Me? Why is it when anything goes awry, everyone always looks at me?", John asked.

"Then get up, if you're so innocent,", she said cleverly, knowing he couldn't.

"Um, no, I'm quite comfortable -", the amplifier moved significantly.

"What've you got under there?", she said, totally mystified.

"Nothing!".

"Oh, come on, blokes,", she said, getting down on the ground to see if she could see it from underneath.

Just then, the spider jutted a mechanical leg out. It started tapping it around on the ground, feeling for a leg to grab.

"Ah. Fascinating,", she said, reaching for her purse.

"Maggie, it's really quite dangerous, I think you should step away -", started Paul.

"Oh, nonsense,", she said, pulling out her Polaroid and snapping a photograph.

"What are you keeping the creature crushed like that for?".

"Maggie, it's a bomb!", blurted George.

"Oh, now,", she said, not believing it.

"It's a bomb that we had to dismantle for the Doctor, and he was supposed to come pick it up, but he hasn't shown his face yet, the old git, and then it just turned into a spider!", George spat out.

"The Doctor's coming?!", she said, suddenly springing to her feet and jumping a full foot in the air, grabbing excitedly at her hair.

"Yeah, he should've been here ages ago,", said John, tapping his watch.

Just then, a breeze started blowing out of nowhere. The others barely noticed it, but Maggie's eyes widened with joy.

"He's coming!" she shouted.

Within seconds, the TARDIS had materialized.

The door opened almost immediately.

"Sorry I'm late lads, I just -", came the voice that the Liverpool boys had only heard once before.

Maggie ran up to him and started to hug him, only to stop when she realized - he was a total stranger!

"Oh. Hello,", she said, still smiling at him, though it was apparent in her eyes and face that she was disappointed. "Is the Doctor here?", she asked looking past him further into the TARDIS.

"At your service,", said the Doctor, straightening his bowtie. "And who might you be?", he asked.

"Doctor?", she asked, a tear forming in her eye. "You're not the Doctor. What have you done with him?".

Paul stepped up beside her. "This is the Doctor, Maggie. He regenerated.".

"Maggie?", he said, considering the name, his gray eyes searching her face. She had changed so much. She was a few inches taller (not even taking into account her platform shoes), her complexion was flawless, her freckles faded away. Her eyes were the same though, even behind the dark makeup.

"Maggie! You've changed so much,", said the Doctor, realizing that she was indeed the same girl he had met so many years ago. He extended his arms for a hug, but she seemed hesitant.

"Maggie, it's me!", he reassured. She still looked skeptical.

"What happened to your eyebrows?", she finally asked.

"I've been meaning to borrow some new ones off John, but haven't gotten round to it,", he laughed.

"And your clothes,", she said, looking at his tweed suit with suspicion.

"Oh, thank you. They're quite dapper, aren't they?", he said, straightening his bowtie in vanity.

That's maybe not quite what she meant, but she went with it and smiled. She accepted his hug.

"Doctor, mate,", started John slowly. "We've got something to tell you.".

"You've blown up the bus,", said the Doctor, his palm going directly to his forehead.

"Nope.".

"You've created a major paradox with my former self.".

"Nope.".

"Paul's in hospital because of his reaction to the parsley.".

"Nope.".

"Oh, good.".

"And Doctor, I'm right here,", said Paul, furrowing his brow a little at his eccentric friend.

"Oh. Right,", said the Doctor. "And I've been meaning to apologize for that for hundreds of years now. Sorry, mate,", he said.

"Yeah. And exactly how did you do that?", asked Paul, curious.

"I stuck a sprig of it in the air vent to your trailer. Sorry.".

"But Doctor, the thing?", reminded John.

"Oh no. There's a Zygon on the loose, isn't there? I always suspected there was more than just the one...", he said, getting out his screwdriver and starting to scan around.

"NO!", they all exclaimed. The Doctor stopped.

"The bomb is fine. But it turned into a spider,", said George.

"Ah. Let's have a look, then,", he said.

"It's under here,", they said, all hesitantly getting up off the amp.

As soon as they had released enough weight off it, it sprang out and onto the Doctor.

"AGGGHH!" he screamed. It was going for the throat.

Everyone started for him, trying without luck to pull it off. The Doctor started beating it with his screwdriver, but it didn't help. The Doctor felt it clawing at the softest part of his neck, and he kept screaming. The leg of the spider slashed Paul's hand when he had gotten a good hold on it to pull it off.

Just then, Margie noticed a hole square in the middle of the creature's back. She thought it was worth a try. She took a pen out of her coat pocket. She crammed it into the hole, stabbing over and over until the motion in the spider's legs started to become stiff and then motionless. The Doctor threw it off his chest, and it landed limply on the ground. It curled its legs up onto its stomach like, well, like a dead spider.

"Good going, Maggie!", said all the Beatles, patting her on the back. She looked rather stunned, still brandishing the pen in a tightened fist.

"Good God, Doctor, are you all right?", asked Ringo, the first to notice as the Time Lord collapsed against his TARDIS, clutching his throat. With shaky hands, he pried off his red neckwear. He untied it and brought it out for all to see. There was a clean hole poked through it, with only the inner layer of the knot still standing.

"Well? Are they not cool now?", he asked, smiling breathlessly at them.

"What?".

"Bowties, lads, bowties...".

Just then, a figure emerged from the TARDIS.

"Hi again,", said Amy, before realizing the Doctor's state.

"God, Doctor, are you okay?", she said, falling to her knees to be at eye-level with him.

"Fine, fine,", said the Doctor, standing.

Another woman emerged from the TARDIS. This one the Beatles had never seen before. She had wildly curly blonde hair, she was older than the Ponds, and she almost constantly wore a pleased-with-herself smirk (in a charming way).

"Ah. So you're them?", she asked, looking at the 4 lads.

"Who?", asked John finally when it became clear that she wasn't going to elaborate.

"Ah. He's cute. I like it,", she said to Amy.

"He's married,", Amy reminded with a note of embarrassment.

"Ah. Such a drag, everybody's married... Except the Doctor.".

"What about you, River?", Amy asked, furrowing her brow a little, on the edge of confused laughter. "Didn't know you were married.".

"Neither does he,", said River, looking to the Doctor, suppressing a smile.

"Spoilers, Professor, spoilers,", reminded the Doctor, putting his screwdriver back in his pocket.

"Don't call me 'Professor', ducks, it spoils my young image,", she said, giggling.

"Fine then, River, if you don't mind,", he said, motioning to the dead spider.

"My pleasure,", she said. She took a gun out of an unseen holster and shot the metal corpse. It wasn't an ordinary gun, though. The spider was disintegrated.

The Beatles jumped back. After it was over, they looked up at the Doctor with wide eyes.

"She carries guns. I don't like guns,", he said.

"But he likes me,", she said, laughing in her way. "River Song,", she said extending her hand to each of them separately. "Professor of Archaeology. Currently furthering studies in monotony at Stormcage Containment Facility.".

"Pshh,", said the Doctor, turning to the side and covering his mouth a little.

"Harboring a fugitive then, Doctor?", asked John, in his ridiculous mock-posh accent.

"Not exactly a fugitive. He's my parole officer,", she said smirking to the maximum.

"Does the warden know about that?", John asked.

"Oh, what he doesn't know won't hurt him,", she dismissed with the wave of her hand (which bore very long, dark red fingernails).

"Hey, guys, you didn't tell me we'd landed,", came a male voice out of the TARDIS.

"Oh no, Dad, not now,", River mumbled, though only George heard her.

"Sorry, what?", he asked.

She ignored him and cleared her throat pointedly.

Rory emerged from the TARDIS, holding something behind his back.

"Hi,", he said, smiling awkwardly. He tried to maneuver better than last time, but he tripped and fell on Amy.

"Hi,", they all said.

"Oh, um sorry,", he said to Amy. He stopped when he noticed everyone was looking at him in silence. "Hi,", he repeated, nodding.

"Hi,", everyone echoed again.

They all stood there in awkward silence.

"Oh, come on, Rory, show them what you've got,", said Amy, pulling his arms out from behind his back. In his hands was his guitar, his first and only. It was a medium wood tone with a black pickguard. It had quite a few scratches on the back, and a worn track to the side of the sound hole where the repetitive rubbing of his pick had worn the finish off.

"I, um, well...", he said, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the ground.

"He wants you to sign it,", finished Amy.

"I've got this, Amy,", Rory said with a little irritation.

"Sorry. I was just... Helping,", she said, smiling a little. Rory had been talking to her about this idea of his non-stop ever since they had left the boys in 1965. Amy had pretended to be a bit annoyed, but really she was happy for him.

"Sure, mate,", said John, taking the guitar by the neck and taking the marker out of Rory's hand.

As he was signing it, Rory looked as though he was in danger of losing consciousness.

"Thanks,", said Rory, finally mustering up the courage to speak.

"The man who saved my eyeball owes me no thanks,", said John, looking down as he marked on the body of the guitar.

Amy and Rory laughed. After John was finished, he passed it around to all his bandmates.

After it got back to Rory, he looked at it. They had all signed it, but John had drawn something. He held it out, studying it. It looked like a few faces, but he couldn't tell much, they were so scribbled.

"Don't you know who that is?", John asked.

Rory squinted.

"You and Yoko?".

John laughed. "No, you and Amy!".

"Ah,", said Rory. Amy immediately grabbed it to face it towards her so she could see how she looked. Her face was almost entirely obscured by her hair, and her mouth looked rather large. Rory looked at himself; his eyes were wide, his hair was sticking up comically.

"It's supposed to be funny-looking,", added John.

"Ah,", said Amy. Rory couldn't have cared less. He was so chuffed he felt he could sprout wings and fly at any moment.

"eBay,", Amy mumbled to Rory.

"You wouldn't,", Rory mumbled back.

Amy pursed her lips at him, suppressing a mischievous grin.

"You're right. I wouldn't.".

"Well, hate to be off so soon, but we must be going,", said the Doctor, starting to herd his crew back to the TARDIS.

"But, but Doctor!", said Maggie with disappointment. "You just got here?!".

"I know, I know, Maggie, dear, but we've got to get River back before anyone notices she's gone,", said the Doctor, patting both Maggie's shoulders. "We'll be back. I promise,", he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Heard that before,", mumbled Amy.

"Oh, Pond,", sighed the Doctor.

"When will you be back, Doctor? Sometime before we all turn forty?", laughed Paul.

"You can be sure of it, mates,", smiled the Doctor. "Right when you least expect me; that's when I'll be there,", he said, snapping his fingers and pointing at them all.

"Well, when's that, then?", Ringo asked, feeling as though he had been waiting two years only to be shorted of his time with one of his favorite friends.

"Oh, Tomorrow Never Knows, fellas,", laughed the Doctor as he stepped back into the TARDIS.

"That doesn't work, Doctor. We've already recorded that song,", said John cleverly. "And remind us, when will Paul get knighted, exactly?", he asked sarcastically, knowing he wouldn't get an answer (referring to the Doctor's last words to Paul after their first adventure years ago).

"Ah ha ha,", laughed the Doctor with a wide smile. "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you, now?", he laughed.

"Doctor, you're a git,", humphed Paul jokingly.

The Doctor chuckled. "See you all soon. John, don't get your beard caught in anything,", he said, waving. "Oh, wait. You don't have that yet,", he said. He was enjoying himself a little too much.

"Oh, come on, Doctor, you're killing them,", Amy said, pulling on his coat sleeve.

"Oh, just a bit of fun, Pond,", he said. "Now we must really be going,", he said, and the others started following him into the TARDIS.

"Nice meeting you lads,", said Amy, smiling.

"Yeah, likewise,", they all echoed back at her.

"Write me a song sometime,", said River to John, flashing a peace sign before hopping back in the TARDIS with the Doctor.

They all waved their last goodbyes and River closed up the doors. They TARDIS just started making its takeoff sound when - it stopped. It rematerialized, and made its firm 'thud' sound back on the ground.

Amy popped out the door.

"Sorry. Forgot my husband,", she said, reaching over and grabbing Rory by the arm. Everyone had forgotten he was still standing to the side of the TARDIS, clutching his guitar, in awe of his idols and oblivious to everything else.

"Cheers,", waved Ringo as they closed the door for the last time.

In a few moments, they were gone again, lost in time and space.

"Well, mates. That's the end of that for another couple years,", said Ringo.

"Seems like you've said that before,", mused George.

"Does seem familiar, doesn't it?", agreed John.

"So, a beard for Lennon!", George turned to his friend.

"I dunno,", said John doubtfully, feeling his jawbones.

"It's in the cards, apparently, man,", said Paul, laughing.

"Lads, there's something I forgot to tell you,", said Maggie suddenly. She was fidgeting with the hem of her dress and biting her thumbnail.

"Hmm?", asked Paul, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it up.

"I dropped out of school.".

Paul spat out his cigarette.

"You what?!", he said.

"Yes. I got an offer to go to work as a model, so I accepted. And I'm dating Mick from the Stones.".

"You're WHAT?!". This came from all their mouths.

"Oh, no you're not!", blurted Ringo, his paternal instincts coming out.

"Do you realize how old you are, and how old he is?!", exclaimed Paul.

"Well, Keith said that since he knows John so well, he thought it would be okay,", said Maggie. "And for your information, I'm 18 now, fellows.".

"Keith. I'll cripple 'im!", John snarled.

"Maggie, you're too young for him! Too innocent!", lamented Ringo.

All four of Maggie's uncles looked as though they were about to experience a collapse from the strains of parenthood.

"Well, that worked,", said Maggie, taking out her notebook.

"What worked?", asked Paul.

"That worked. You're all a wreck,", she said, writing feverishly. "My hypothesis was correct.".

"You're what?".

"My psychology assignment was to see if my parents were the traditional type, or the progressive type. You lot are so square,", she laughed, writing.

"You mean we're the 'traditional' type?", asked John, squinting a little. This was a first for him.

"Yep. A progressive parent would have encouraged me to pursue my modeling career and my controversial affair.".

"So this means you haven't quit school?", asked Paul.

"Nope. In fact, I'm working on my doctoral thesis, and I've been commissioned by the government to help produce a new space capsule prototype that I'm really not supposed to talk about, but I just did,", she said, giggling to herself.

"And Mick?".

"Met him once. He's... fine. Not my type,", she said, chewing her pencil and looking over her notes.

"What is your type, Maggie, just so we'll know next time?", asked Ringo.

"Science-y,", she said decidedly after a moment of thought.

"Good, that leaves out all the ones we were worried about,", sighed George.

Just, then, they heard a car horn honking.

"Well, that's our ride, fellows,", said Paul, nodding towards a limousine pulling up. They all immediately collected their instruments and prepared to depart.

"Coming, Maggie?", asked John when he realized she wasn't following.

She was staring at the place where the TARDIS had been sitting.

"Do you think we'll see him again?", she asked, suddenly mournful.

He bit his lip for a moment. He understood just how she felt; the empty feeling that witnessing the takeoff of the TARDIS always left you with was devastating when you didn't know when (or if) you would ever see it again. He knew she had fallen in love with time and space, and she was determined to get out there again. Ever since the TARDIS had touched her mind, she had put all of her energy and her new knowledge to work, trying to prepare her mind to help get man into space. And it was in this way that he knew it must hurt her more to see the TARDIS withdraw back into the furthest reaches of the universe - it had given her practically everything she had, and it held the secrets to everything else she wanted for her life, and it just came and went, always leaving her behind. But he knew. One day she would get out there herself, without a TARDIS, without a Doctor. She was going to follow her dream, just as he had his own.

"Yeah. We will,", he said, giving her a soft smile. They both just stood there, staring at the place where the time machine had been not five minutes before.

"Now come on,", he said finally, motioning for her to follow him. "We're going back to the hotel. You've got people to meet, ice cream to eat,", he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Ice cream?", she said, almost squealing like a small child, but stifling it. Ice cream had become her pet love since she had been living in the 20th century.

"You heard right, now come on,", John smiled, mostly to himself.

This made Maggie smile too.

 _A/N; Hope you all liked this one. This one was so fun to write. Please review!_

 _Peace and love and peace, peace and love and peace, peace, peace and love, friends :) See you next time!_


End file.
